Alone
by Vivien Lestrange
Summary: A shared interest in the Cruciatus curse isn't a sufficient base for a marriage. Entry for Challenge 89 on the Bellatrix Lestrange-The Dark Lord's Most Faithful-forum.


**Disclaimer:** The Harry Potter books and everything related don't belong to me and no money is being made with this story.

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**Alone**

The rain kept falling. Rodolphus' hair and clothes turned wet quickly. He could have gone inside. He could have conjured an umbrella. He did neither. Instead, he walked further into the marshland.

It was over. She was gone.

He couldn't claim that it surprised him. Ever since Azkaban, their marriage had existed in name only. Long before that actually, if he wanted to be honest with himself. He was prepared for this so why did it make him feel so bad? Why did he cry? Rodolphus had survived vengeful torture by Aurors, thirteen years under the influence of the Dementors and serious battle injury but cried when his wife told him she was leaving him? Why did he have to make such a fool of himself in front of her? She'd respect him even less now. Well, if that was possible.

The heavy rain made the ground even more treacherous than it normally was. Rodolphus wasn't bothered by this. He was familiar with this land.

Bellatrix had managed to make him feel once more like the confused boy he used to be. Part of him had always known that she didn't love him. He had been useful to her, nothing more. Back at school and later when she needed a pure-blood husband to uphold the Black family honour after her sister's betrayal.

There were no more people bearing the name of Black. These attempts had become futile. She didn't need him anymore and thus, she cast him aside like a used toy. Him, who had sacrificed everything for her, who had exchanged the comfortable and secure life he would have led for a lifetime of service and violence.

No, it wasn't right to blame her for this. She had tried to persuade him but in the end, the choice to become a Death Eater had been his own. He had not tortured the Longbottoms for her sake, didn't go to prison for her.

At least, Longbottom wasn't in a state to gloat about the fate that had befallen Rodolphus now. There was a son but as far as Rodolphus knew, he tended to be at the receiving end of Wizarding society's disdain.

Rodolphus shook his head. How low did you have to sink if other people's misfortune was your only comfort?

How could she do this to him? He had been there for her, always. How could she simply cast it all aside? Even severely weakened himself, he had tended to her wounds after Azkaban, always blaming her behaviour, sometimes cold and distant, sometimes violent-tempered on the Dementors. He hurt for her when the Dark Lord played his games of hope and rejection again and again.

She didn't realise that Rodolphus was the one who cared not the Dark Lord, never the Dark Lord. She chose to keep pursuing him, her foolish hopes, knowing they would never be fulfilled.

Just like he had continued hoping that she could love him. Until now. Her decision was final.

She preferred being the Dark Lord's plaything to being Rodolphus' beloved wife.

It wasn't his concern anymore. Bellatrix was a grown woman, powerfully magical. She knew what she was getting into. She was perfectly capable of making her own decisions. It shouldn't matter to him. Not anymore.

Only the master could be good enough for her, not the follower. It was time to let go.

Rodolphus looked down upon the swampland beside the footbridge he was walking across. Time to let go. He pulled the ring off his finger and threw it into the mud that had swallowed countless Muggles stupid enough to venture near the Lestrange stronghold in the past.

The rain kept falling as he turned and walked back home. House and garden, hidden by magic, emerged as he walked through the gate.

Rodolphus' garden had become overgrown during the years he had spent in Azkaban. After the escape, he had begun to rebuild it but Bellatrix hadn't done anything during his second stay in prison. The effort was lost. He'd have to start at the beginning once more.

Not today. There were other tasks that needed to be finished first.

"Mimi!"

The first House Elf heeded the call right away.

"Yes, Master. What do you need?"

"Take Mistress Bellatrix' things to Malfoy Manor."

He was certain she'd be staying her. It was her sister's home and the place where the Dark Lord had chosen to stay.

"All of her things, Master?"

"Yes."

"Mimi will do it right away."

The Elf hurried away to obey her orders. Rodolphus went inside and walked past the whispering portraits. "Is she gone?" a grey-haired wizard asked.

Rodolphus wondered how he was able to guess that. "Yes, she is."

"Good riddance. I never thought she was the right one. Unstable mind. Make sure you choose someone better next time."

Next time. Rodolphus seriously doubted there would be a next time. The number of eligible female Death Eaters was limited and outside of this circle, the chances for a wanted fugitive were small.

He should have taken this step much earlier. He should have taken it not her. If only he hadn't been such a coward, afraid of the scandal divorce would cause. Compared to being convicted of torturing the son of one of the Noble and Most Ancient Houses into insanity, the social consequences of divorce were negligible. There would be some mockery from his fellow Death Eaters but they weren't foolish enough to go too far. Saint Mungo's was off limits to the known Death Eaters if they didn't want a one-way-ticket to Azkaban. They depended on him if they needed the help of a Healer and they knew it. The derision Lucius suffered for being left wandless was much stronger than anything Rodolphus had ever received from his comrades.

He'd never understand this decision of the Dark Lord. Did this prophecy really matter to him so much he started treating one of his formerly most important servants like this? Everyone knew that prophecies were fickle, well everyone raised in the pure-blood ways did.

Rodolphus was too much of a Slytherin to feel overly bad about Lucius' fate. Better him than Rodolphus. He preferred being overlooked like usual to being singled out for humiliation. His true goal, being singled out for his achievements was further away than ever. The Dark Lord didn't care for healing magic and Severus would always be a step ahead of him in pure potion making. He was the Dark Lord's current favourite, killer of Dumbledore. Rodolphus was not entrusted with important missions anymore. He was doomed to live in the shadows forever and Bellatrix had realised it. She didn't want to be connected to someone like that anymore.

There were portraits of all the true Lestranges and their wives on the hallway walls but none of Bellatrix. She had never been interested in having her portrait here, now he knew exactly why. She had used him and lied to him from the beginning and he had fallen for it. Rodolphus was familiar with the deceitful ways of the Slytherins; he wasn't a stranger to lies and deceit himself. In her case however, he had been foolish like a Hufflepuff, desperate to believe it was true and thus unable to see that it wasn't.

He had allowed her to use him and rob him of the chance to ever find a true partner. Someone who appreciated him and wanted to be his wife rather than fantasizing about others. Bellatrix didn't care about Herbology and didn't value Potions, his healing skills she considered useful sometimes but nothing more. The only thing they had in common was their shared enthusiasm for the Cruciatus curse. Not enough to base a relationship on, even less so with neither having an interest in being at the receiving end of the curse.

Well, if the Dark Lord was the one casting it, she seemed to be interested alright which led back to the bottom of the matter.

Rodolphus had been an idiot fooled by his fanciful dreams. Now he was a man who had lost his wife, his reputation and his security while gaining nothing. There was little hope of improvement.

The Dark Lord talked about final victory of course but the way he went on about it, Rodolphus doubted that victory would ever be theirs. Still, it was the only hope he had, and so he clutched at the last straw. Final victory.


End file.
